Shadow Wars
by Master of Reality
Summary: Long ago, a great war tore across Weyard, as good and evil battled for supremacy over the power of Alchemy. A hero is born, a dark god returns, and the war to seal or control the Golden Sun is underway. R&R!
1. Prologue: A Storm of Fire

**EDIT (SEPTEMBER 05)(MoR): This story was originally posted on my joint account with Cyan Light, but we took it down a while ago (long story). Anyway, Cyan Light has gone on to do his own things in life, so all this material he has given to me, and he insisted that I put it up. I must admit, I hung on to it for a while, before finally deciding to re-post it. I went through, and edited it a little bit and fixed a few typos (probably still haven't got 'em all, though).**

**Also, I'd like to correct a couple of errors made in the previous post. It does contain a lot of inspiration from a few different places, which we forgetfully didn't mention. Put it down to stupidity. It draws inspiration from a variety of sources, Zelda, Star Wars, Wheel of Time (just a tad), and um…. I forget now, but yeah, you get the idea. So anyway, neither me, nor Cyan Light own anything here (ever wonder why it's called **_fan_**fiction?). If we've been inspired by something, hey, who isn't? If we borrowed from something else in the fanfiction genre, I'll try to remember to cite it. If I don't, forgive me, I'm stupid and forgetful most times. Just remind me.**

**I should point out my my parter-in-crime, Cyan Light, was the real author of this chapter (and the next one if I get around to posting it), so when you review this, you're really reviewing him, not me. But I did do the editing and stuff, and helped come up with the storyline and such, so... yeah.**

**Anyway, I left all CL's original Author's Notes (mine too, because I thought, why not?) and am adding extra ones here to point things out. **

**Wow, I've rambled quite a bit long here, haven't I? Well, anyway, don't let me hold you up, read and enjoy.**

Author's Note (Cyan Light)-

This is a story that I have looked forward to writing for a very long time. This story began awhile back when I was thinking about this game. My imagination began to work and this story came into being. It took quite awhile to fine tune the story; however, it has now reached a point where I can begin writing the story.

While imagining this story it occurred to me that the readers would be unable to understand it without having a knowledge of the history of Weyard. Therefore, with the help of the incredibly talented Master of Reality, (who will also be helping write this novel) we began writing the history of Weyard. Thus, The Chronicles of Weyard were written. While writing the chronicles MoR and myself sought to create an accurate history, while still making it vague enough to get others imaginations working. We did this in hopes that other authors who read this work, would be able to build off our creation and create their own.

I would highly suggest that all viewers of this story read The Chronicles of Weyard in order to obtain background knowledge of the story. This is in order to help you better understand the novel. This will be long novel, due to the fact that it will be the complete story of the Hero of Ages, rather than a summary like The Chronicles of Weyard.

I hope that you, the reader, will enjoy this story of my imagination, as much as I enjoyed writing it. So, without further delay, the prologue of The Shadow Wars

Author's Note (Master of Reality)-

Hey all! As Cyan Light said, I'm working together with him on this to make an excellent novel set before the GS games (Which you don't get too many of). I've often thought of doing one myself, but never had any good, solid storylines to work on. Now that Cyan Light has come to me with this idea, I'm proud to work on it, and really like what we've come up with.

On this project, I'm taking the role of co-author/editor/beta reader. This is going to be a great story, I can assure you, as the tale of the war that sealed away Alchemy unfolds, but not entirely as you expect. Certain details of that war were never told as they were forgotten in legends and tales of old. A powerful evil stirs in Weyard once more… you get the idea.

Also, I've posted a small one-shot set long before this (during events referred to in here) that sort of serves as almost a prologue to this whole fic. It's called "The Battle of Mount Aleph", read it if you haven't already, if you want, to get a deeper understanding of the epic we are creating.

Just so you know, this starts off, obviously, at the end of the Lost Age (still being called the Golden Age in this fic), obviously, a few years before the war starts. You already know when in Weyard's history it ends, but do you know how? Read and enjoy, and also review!

**The Shadow Wars**

**Prologue**

"**A Storm of Fire"**

_It is a flame of one's fury,_

_that burns deep within_

_Its flame is eternal_

_that will burn for all time_

_It gives you a strength you've never known before_

_Its power can topple kingdoms, mountains, and even gods_

_But beware; this might comes at a price_

_The loss of one's soul, which can never be regained_

_When its wrath has passed_

_It still remains_

_It never goes away_

_It never forgets_

_So know, before you start down this path_

_there is no turning around, no going back_

**An ancient riddle, found inscribed within the Temple of Sol **

**-Translated from the old language**

"Cecil!" A voice called out from the deep darkness of Cecil's mind. The voice cut into the recesses of his being, commanding his attention.

"Open your eyes Cecil." The voice that called out to him held a tone of authority and Cecil founded himself reacting to the command almost instantaneously.

Cecil opened his eyes, the sudden onslaught of light that flooded his vision caused his arm to jerk up and cover his eyes quickly. With his arm protecting his eyes from the light, his vision soon adapted to the lighted room. Cecil began to take in his surroundings.

Cecil found himself lying in the middle of a large room lying on a small platform at its center. The chamber was massive. It had a high domed ceiling and the walls and floor were made of large beautiful blocks of black marble. The platform he was standing on was carved of magnificent stone. Intricate runes were etched on its surface. At each of the four corners of the platform stood an elegant statue of a warrior.

Each statue was beautifully crafted, carefully carved out stone. They were all created in the image of a different warrior. They were amazingly detailed. Each wore a suit of beautiful golden armor that completely covered their body. On the belts, hung a gloriously crafted scabbard laced with glimmering jewels that stretched across the breadth of the sheath. The four warriors held in their hands, which were stretched out in front of them as if an offering, four glowing stones. The source of the light in the room, emanated from the stones held in their hands.

The stones were each unique and beautiful in their own way. Although they all were clear black stones, their center held a mist of colors. One of the stones center was a swirling mist of green and gold that merged together at its center. The next was red and black; another was blue and white, while the last was black and purple. Each of the four stones had the same unique trait of the swirling mists of glowing light and colors at their center. The more Cecil stared at the stones the faster the images would move. He found himself drawn to their center, and was captivated by them.

Cecil tore his attention from the stones and stood up from the platform and stretched. He stepped of the central platform and began walking around the chamber. Suddenly, the commanding voice from his mind, sounded from the room.

"Welcome, Cecil." The voice called, its words echoing across the room, reverberating off the walls.

The stones held by the four champions flashed to life as the voice faded from around the room. Large beams of light erupted from the stones and converged in the center of the platform. The light swirled together and began to take form. As the form finished taking shape, the light emanating from the stones stopped. The image of light in the center of the platform, now completed, flashed brilliantly and suddenly exploded.

The blast from the light, slammed into Cecil, knocking him off his feet and sent him careening into the wall. He hit the ground hard. Cecil slowly pulled himself up from the floor and shook his head, trying to shake away the black dots floating around in his vision. As his eyes regained focus, he saw that where the image of light had been there now stood a tall muscular man. The man wore large heavy armor that completely covered his torso. On his belt hung a long and glorious sheath, which must have held an excellent blade. The man stared at the boy for a few moments sizing him up.

Cecil was a young boy no older than ten years old. He had dark black hair that was cut short. His eyes were deep brown and held much love and compassion. He was small for his age but definitely had a distinguished muscle tone. He wore a small white tunic and wore baggy tan pants.

The man looked at the small boy with a twinkle in his eyes. After a few moments he spoke.

"My name is Haran. I have come here to tell you an incredible tale of the past, that I am hoping will help affect the future." He looked at the boy across the room who was staring at him with confusion.

"My tale is rather long, young one, so that it would be more comfortable, please sit down." Haran, with a little difficulty, sat down on the platform. Cecil looked questionably at Haran from across for a few moments before walking towards the platform. Cecil stepped up on the platform and sat down cautiously in front of the man. The man stared into Cecil's eyes as if peering into his soul. His eyes seemed to lose focus and he stared blankly into the distance, his mind lost in thought. Haran began slowly telling his tale.

_Long ago, when the world of Weyard was young and mankind fist began to flourish a great evil invaded the land. The Dark Lord Aginorin, feeling the power of the elemental stars emanating from within the Golden Realm, gathered his vast demonic armies and began an invasion of Weyard. With this army of blood thirsty demons at his side Aginorin swept across the land, annihilating the unsuspecting people of Weyard._

_The Grand Army of the land, put up a magnificent fight, but they were unable to stop the onslaught of Aginorin's hoards of demons. Although these incredible soldiers fought with all of their might, they were utterly defeated. Destruction covered the land; it seemed that the Day of Judgment had come._

_The last remnants of mankind fled to their last stronghold, Mount Aleph. Mount Aleph was one of the most holy places in all the land. It was said by the people that it was where Sol had ascended into Aetherius. The last remaining warriors of mankind stood bravely upon Mount Aleph, facing Aginorin's demonic Legions of Darkness with defiance. The people, believing that this was the end, began praying to the Lord Sol to save them from utter destruction._

_It was in this darkest hour, the final battle for Weyard began. It looked as if all hope was lost. But suddenly, their prayers were answered. Sol had heard their cries and sent to aid them mighty warriors. These champions, with their power over the elements, were able to defeat Aginorin's demons. Within a year the land had been cleansed from the vile scourge of darkness that had infested it._

_These warriors were the Alsh'man Lucid, Adept Defenders of the Light, who would later be called Adepts, returned to Mount Aleph and there they found the Wise One, who had first guided mankind, and taught them. The Wise One told the people that they would be given the power of Alchemy to help craft the land. He then gave to the four leaders of the Adepts the elemental stars and told them to use the power within them to help rebuild the land. With that, the Wise One, the original teacher of mankind, returned to Aetherius._

_The Golden Age, the current age, began at this time. In this Age mankind truly flourished. With the help of the Adepts, the people constructed four elemental lighthouses that would help harness the powers of Alchemy so they could be used throughout the land. After the igniting of the lighthouses, the power they released converged at the peak of Mount Aleph and created, The Golden Sun. This object was sacred, for with it any man could have his wishes answered._

_The Golden Sun therefore was protected by the most elite Adepts, who later become the Order of Sol, and the Golden Sun would become their symbol. These warriors built upon Mount Aleph a mighty temple that would help guard the Golden Sun, and it was inside it that the Golden Sun rested._

_It was also during this time the great monuments and towers were constructed. The mighty cities of the elemental clans were also built. Alluvion, the city of Earth. Anemos, the city of Wind. Lemuria, the city of Water. And Infernos, the city of Fire. These cities were home to the four elemental clans, each residing in a city of their respective element. Although these were beautiful cities and were the largest around, none of them compared to the city built at the base of Mount Aleph, Solaria, the grandest city of the Golden Age._

_This city was magnificent. It was a city where everyone was accepted, no matter if you were an Adept or not. The city had large and magnificent buildings, massive monuments, and beautiful palaces. The city was the symbol of the Golden Age, and within this city rested the greatest object of the age, the Golden Sun. The Golden Sun resided within the Temple of Sol, and was constantly guarded by the Order of Sol._

_These cities have continued to grow and prosper throughout the age. But that age is coming to an end. A great darkness once again is creeping across the land, and already it can be felt. Yet again, evil has begun to creep into the hearts of men, and I fear that it will be not long until Weyard is invaded again._

The man stopped speaking and stared at Cecil. He closed his eyes and a single tear rolled down his face. The man opened his eyes again and continued speaking.

"It is quite possible that the evil could win this time." Haran looked at Cecil again, a look of pity in his eyes.

"There is a prophecy", began Haran again, "about this coming evil, and a hero, who shall decide the fate of Weyard." Haran again closed his eyes, and began telling the prophecy.

_A time of peace, that comes to an end_

_an evil of the past, shall rise again_

_A cloak of darkness, that covers the land _

_the end of Weyard, could be at hand_

_But even in this shadow, and time of fear_

_A hero of the age, the chosen one, shall appear_

_The hero will enter, the place of Golden Light_

_And be given an object, to pierce the night_

_In the hero's hands, will rest mankind's fate_

_And I pray that it shall not be too late_

_For the time will come, when the end is near_

_It shall be the moment, the time to fear_

_When the darkness is sealed, by the light_

_or the light shall be forever covered, by the night_

At the conclusion of the prophecy, the stones held by the statues, flared to life again, as confirming something. Haran looked at the boy and began to say something, but stopped, thinking better of it. Haran suddenly tilted his head as if listening to something; worry etched itself into his face. He looked at the boy again and began to speak.

"Cecil, my time with you must be cut short, I'm afraid. But listen to my words and take them to heart. There is much I wanted to tell you, but already the evil one has felt my presence here." Haran stopped speaking and pulled himself to his feet. He reached down and helped Cecil to his as well before beginning again.

"You will face many hardships in the coming years Cecil, but do not let that deter you. This task has been appointed to you." Cecil interrupted Haran with a question.

"What task have I been appointed?" He asked.

"Have you not figured it out yet?" Haran replied quickly. "You will need to get smarter. You are the Hero of Ages, Cecil, the one who was prophesied about many years ago. You will be the one to decide the fate of Weyard."

Cecil felt dazed. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. _I must be dreaming_ he thought.

"You are dreaming lad, but what has been told to you tonight is true, now listen to me Cecil. Soon you will feel that all hope is lost, but do not despair, a teacher will come to you, who will show you many things. You will learn much from him but will one day have to depart on your own." Haran seemed to lose his concentration, but continued speaking.

"From that point on, the decisions you make will ultimately decide Weyard's fate, choose wisely, Cecil." With that final statement Haran stopped speaking.

Haran stepped into the center of the platform and raised his arms. The stones began emanating a golden light that began to swirl around him. Soon the light completely covered his body and then slowly began to fade away. When the light had completely disappeared, Haran was gone. Cecil stood open mouthed. Suddenly he heard Haran's voice in his mind again.

"We will meet again Cecil, may Sol watch over you and protected you from evil." With that final statement the glowing stones held by the statues slowly began to go out and in a few moments, Cecil was covered in darkness.

x

Cecil opened his eyes and found himself lying in his dimly lit room. He sat up quickly and scanned the room.

The room was lightly furnished. A desk stood against the wall next to his bed and was covered with parchment. There was a large rug in the center of the room, which was made of animal hide. Cecil's bed was made of a soft pallet of straw and was covered with a delicate cloth.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes, pulled back the covers, and stepped out of his bed. He stood up and stretched his limbs before walking across his room to his window. An eerie moonlight shone through his window. Cecil lived in a large house with two stories, the second being where he resided. Cecil looked out his window at the village.

The village was called Valeus. It resided in the westernmost reaches of Angara, in a part of the continent separated from the rest by mountain regions and forests, like many of the villages in this region.

The village was illuminated by the full moon which hung in the clear night sky. The stars sparkled in the sky. The town looked calm and peaceful. The large houses stood tall in the night and looked magnificent. Cecil stood there looking at the beautiful village and pondered on his dream.

He stood there reliving the dream for several minutes thinking on all he had been told. He sat staring out into the woods watching the wind slowly blow across their leaves, causing them to sway. A sudden movement in the woods broke Cecil from his trance. He stared intently on where the movement originated from. An object burst from the trees and took flight. It flew into the night sky and swept past Cecil making eye contact with him. It eyes were large and bright yellow. It took a few moments for Cecil's mind to think of what flew by, it was an owl. Cecil let out a long sigh of relief.

There had been reports around the country of bandits who were ransacking towns and then fading away. A fear had settled throughout the village for a few months after hearing about these bandits, but the fear had eventually faded away. The people of the village believed they were too far away from the large villages to be attacked by the bandits.

Cecil's heart slowly rescinded to its normal beating pace. He looked one more time at the edge of the woods. He then felt weariness cover him and turned around to head back to his bed. He lay down on his soft pallet and eventually faded into a troubled sleep.

x

A large ugly looking man, with scars all over his face and a bald head, cursed at the owl as it took flight. The sudden appearance of the large owl had caused him to jump back and hit the nearest tree with his arm. It still hurt and the pain throbbed through it. He quietly cursed the bird again and then cursed himself for his stupidity. He wondered if someone had seen him and what that would cause. The raid on the village would be lost, and that would anger Shadow. And that was something that did not happen if the person expected to live.

The man continued his journey around the outskirts of the village and no more accidents occurred. The entire village was asleep which was just what was needed for the raid to work. The ugly man, having completed his task, started his return journey to the camp. He quietly and quickly moved through the trees finding the path he had made trying to get to the village.

As he reached the outskirts of the camp, he felt a sudden movement behind him. Before he could move he felt the cold steel of a knife pressed against his back. The man stiffened, as he felt the point of the blade pressed against him.

"You're dead, mate." A gravely voice purred into his ear. The ugly man felt his breathe return to him.

"Let me pass you demon spawn. I have important information for Shadow, and he would not be pleased if I was held up by you." The ugly man said to the one who held the knife at his back, trying to sound unafraid.

"I am sure that you do," the gravely voice replied, "but I have heard that Shadow has already heard displeasing news this night." There was a chuckle and then the knife vanished from the ugly man's back.

The man spun around quickly, looking for the owner of the voice, and the blade. All the man saw, however, was the darkness of woods. He cursed, spun on his heel, and continued into Shadow's camp.

This was no mere camp of bandit's, as many of the villagers that they had already attacked had assumed. These were fierce warriors who served the Darkfiends, run by Shadow, but servants of a still higher power, a greater evil. Many of them had been bandits or mercenaries beforehand, but now they were forced to fight for this new evil. This raid was but the beginning, a small example of the war that was to come onto the land. A war that would end in a great power ruling over Weyard with the might of the Golden Sun. An evil whose name he was not worthy to know, but should not dare to utter even if he did.

The Darkfiend camp was well organized; everyone had a job and they did it well. If they failed to do their job, there were often severe punishments. The camp was constructed to be quick to set up and even quicker to take down. The camp was normally lighted, but tonight was a raid, and they were camped close to the village and did not want to be noticed. Only the moonlight illuminated the path through the camp.

The ugly man crossed through the camp and came to the largest tent in the center. A cold wind blew through the Darkfiend camp and the man felt a chill run up his spine. A rustle came from within the tent as he stood outside and suddenly, an owl burst forth from the flaps of the tent and soared into the night.

He instinctively had covered his head as the owl erupted from the tent, and he stared daggers at it as it flew off into the night. He suddenly remembered the owl that had caused him to almost alert the village in the night and he began to shake uncontrollably.

"Please, come inside," a calm voice said from within the tent. The man slowly stopped his shaking and gained control. He took a deep breath and entered the tent.

A large table stood in the center of the room, and it was littered with many ancient maps and manuscripts. The table was illuminated by a small candle at the table's center. A man, sitting in the corner of the tent, was silhouetted in the darkness.

"Sit down and deliver your report," the man asked casually, lifting his hand and pointing at the chair across the table from him.

The ugly man sat in the indicated chair and began telling his report. He told the man, that the village was completely unaware of the Darkfiend's presence, and that the raid would be successful. He did not, however, tell the man about his experience with the owl.

The man sat quietly listening to the ugly man's report, at its conclusion he took a deep breathe and began speaking.

"You do know that this organization is built upon trust, correct?"

"Yes, yes sir," the ugly man replied, feeling a fear rise in his chest.

"Unfortunately, you failed to mention an important detail; one that could have jeopardized this entire operation," the silhouetted man continued. "And that is something I am afraid cannot be tolerated; therefore, I must say that your employment has been terminated."

The ugly man hardly had time to move, before there was a sudden glint from the candlelight and a swish. The ugly man's head fell from his shoulders. The sheathing of a blade could be heard in the quiet tent. The silhouetted man leaned forward into the candlelight where his features came into the light.

The man's face was sunken and completely pale. Long white hair that fell well past his shoulders hung in his face. The eyes that appeared from within the white hair were ice cold. The eyes were a deep frozen blue, which held no pity. A cold smile touched his lips as he looked at the now headless body still sitting in the chair.

"It is time," the man quietly said. With that final statement a cold wind blew through the tent, causing the candle to flicker. It flickered a few times, before it went out, casting the tent in darkness.

x

Cecil lay in his bed tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep. He tried to clear his mind, but the dream kept finding its way into his head. Unable to sleep Cecil groggily pulled himself from his pallet and put on some clothing. He walked to his window and pulled it open; he stole a backward glance at his room one last time and stepped through his window. The frigid air nipped at his exposed skin, as he exited his window.

Near his window was a piece of lattice which had vines growing along its length. Cecil had used the lattice many times to climb down from his window and this time was no different. He swung from his window and grasped on to the lattice. He found a secure hold and began pulling himself down. He reached the bottom of the lattice and jumped the last remaining feet. He landed lightly and examined his surroundings. The city still looked calm and peaceful. He plunged his hands into his pockets, to try and protect them from the night air and began walking down the dirt pathway, through the village houses.

As he walked, his mind kept becoming filled with questions. _How can I be the Hero of the Ages? _he thought to himself. _No! Stop thinking about it. It was just a dream. You are just a boy who lives in a small far off village of Valeus. The village where a traveler passes through once a year. You are the son of the village blacksmith, and will take up that trade just like your father before you and his before him. You are destined to be a man of trade, not a Hero._

Cecil's thoughts continued like this for the extent of his journey, and by the time he reached the end of the path at the beginning of the woods, he was believing that his dream was just a dream.

Cecil, now content in knowing that his dream was a dream, turned around and continued his journey home. Suddenly, a barrage of flaming arrows flew from above the trees and fell through the sky and among the village homes. Cecil dove behind a stack of logs to evade the flaming arrows.

The arrows embedded themselves into the stack of wood Cecil hid behind and several fell all about him. One even pierced through his tunic and had missed him by a hair. After a few moments, Cecil heard a loud piercing scream and he pulled his head around the stack of wood to peer at the village.

The village was in flames. The flaming arrows had lodged themselves in the thatch roofs and ignited. The flames had leapt from one house to another and now the entire village was burning.

A group of bandits tore out of the woods, and charged into the town. They wore heavy steel armor, and large spiked helmets, that completely covered their faces, except the eyes. Their eyes were blood red and the flames from the burning homes, seemed to dance across them. A lust for death and destruction resided within them. The blades that were in their hands were sharp, curved, notched scimitars. The fire from the homes looked as if it leapt across the blades.

The people fled from their burning homes only to be cut down by the bandits. Men, women, children, were cut down by the onslaught of the bandits.

Cecil acting on his emotions, leapt from behind the stack of wood and charged down the street towards the bandits, hoping he could stop them. He did not think about what he would use to fend them off, or that he was just a small boy compared to them, he simply charged towards them. As he ran past his house a hand reached out from the door and grabbed onto Cecil's collar and pulled him inside. It was Cecil's father.

Elric, which was his father's name, was the village blacksmith. He was tall and very muscular. He had brown hair, that was cut short, and his eyes were deep brown. He was dressed in battle armor and his sword was sheathed at his side. He was ready to defend the village. A deep cloud of smoke filled the house and Cecil found it hard to breath.

"Listen to me Cecil." The man's deep voice spoke quickly. "I want you to use the back door through the forge and hide in the woods." The man stared directly into Cecil's eyes and continued speaking. "Hide there, and say nothing, no matter what happens. Stay there until the bandits have left." Elric's grip on Cecil's shoulders was like a vice. "Do you understand Cecil?"

Cecil nodded his head; he felt the tears rising in his eyes. Elric bent down and took Cecil in his arms and crushed him in a great bear hug. The chill of his father's armor sent shivers through Cecil's body. Cecil, despite this, felt the love his father had for him in that hug, and that memory stayed with him until the end of his days. Elric released his son and stood up.

"Go now, Cecil." Elric said with a tone of finality. Cecil ran towards the back door of the house, but before he went through he turned and looked at his father standing tall in through the smoke. With that he opened the door and ran through his father's forge into the woods.

x

Elric stood staring at the door Cecil had gone through for a few moments. He turned to the front door, walked towards it, and opened it. The smoke from inside billowed out of the now open door. Elric took a long stride and stood outside the house. The street was littered with bodies of both villagers and bandits. He felt anger build up within him.

He heard a scream and turned towards it source. A small group of village men, who were trying to defend the village, were cornered near the woods, surrounded by a group of bloodthirsty bandits. Elric pulled his gleaming sword from its sheath. It made a ringing sound as it passed from within its holder. He took a deep breath, and charged down the dirt path towards the cornered village men, a roar building in his chest. As he reached the bandits, the battle cry erupted from his chest.

The sudden cry stopped the bandits for a few moments and that was just what Elric needed. He plunged his sword through the chest of the nearest bandit. A gurgle of death rose in the bandit's throat and he dropped to his knees. No sooner had the bandit hit the ground, Elric had pulled his sword free and decapitated the next nearest one.

This sudden arrival of hope in the village blacksmith rallied the village men and they fought against the bandits with a renewed vigor. Soon the group of bandits that had almost defeated the village men lay dead or dying at their feet.

Elric took command of the small group of village militia. He spoke to them in a tone of authority and seemed to have an aura of leadership about him.

"Listen, to me my friends." He started. "Our small village that we had believed too small to be pillaged has been attacked by bandits. These bandits sought not only to steal our belongings, but the lives of our families as well. We are all that stand between them and the destruction of another village. We have a chance to fight these bandits, these demons!" Elric's voice echoed about the small collection of men. He reached down and lifted up the head of one of the bandits, and held it up so all could see it.

The thing was hideous. Dead skin covered its face; it had deep pits and scars all across it and large sharp protruding teeth. A gasp came from the gathering as they saw the demons face.

"Fight? Against that? We have no chance! We will die! We should flee!" A village man cried out from the throng. Others seemed to nod their heads in agreement.

Elric still stood tall and unfazed. "Yes, fight and you may die. Run and you will live, at least for a little while." Elric began again. "These bandits have ravaged the lands, and pillaged the villages of many people. They have killed men, women, and children. Should you live through the time when they pillage many villages and kill many innocents, and you lie an old man, dying in your bed, all alone, would you be willing to trade all of those days, for the chance to come back here and fight against these demons in hopes of saving another family or village?" The question hung in the air.

"I ask you as a friend, as a brother, will you fight with me? Will you let these demons kill innocent people and see what has happened here, happen elsewhere? What will you do? I will fight! I will fight for all those who have felt the pain of losing a loved one to these demons! I will fight to protect others from having to feel that pain! I will fight! What will you do?" With that final statement he threw the demon's head into one of the burning homes and began walking down through the village towards the main group of bandits, his sword held firmly in his hand.

The group of men stared down the path the blacksmith had taken, a new respect for him in their eyes. A few men began to follow Elric, and then more, until the entire group was marching behind Elric towards the camp.

The bandits had constructed at the edge of the woods a small temporary tent where they were storing the loot gathered from the village. A group of bandits stood around a tall man with long white hair who was issuing orders.

Elric stopped half the distance from the group and called out to them. The man stopped talking and looked at Elric, and the bandits turned their heads to look as well.

"Listen to me you demons of Acheron. Your time in this world has been ill-spent!" Elric suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look. Standing behind him were all the village men, they had come to help fight. Each of them held a look of defiance in their eyes, and was prepared to do battle. Elric smiled and turned his head and began speaking again, with renewed vigor

"We will not allow you to harm another village! We will stop you here! Prepare yourselves!" With that final statement, Elric raised his blade in a mock salute and charged into battle, the village-men following close behind.

The man with the long white hair stared at the oncoming militia, and suppressed a smile. He raised a long bony finger a pointed at them. The group of bandits around smiled with pleasure behind their helmets. They pulled their scimitars from their sheaths and charged to meet the oncoming village-men.

The collided together, their blades slamming together, sending sparks flying. The battle was magnificent. The blades flashed quickly through the night. The village-men easily defeated the first group of bandits, but as soon as they had fallen, it seemed that two more would rush in to take their place. The village men fought gloriously but soon they began to fall, there were too many bandits. Soon the only man left standing was Elric. Despite the overwhelming amounts of bandits he was still able to fend them off.

Elric was suddenly struck in his leg and fell to his knees. A bandit, eager to take advantage, raised his blade to deliver the killing blow when he stopped. The bandit lowered the blade and stepped back. Elric pulled himself to his feet, his sword held at the ready. The bandits moved to the side and a pathway appeared in their throng.

The man with long white hair strode down the path towards Elric. He stopped in front of him, his cold eyes measuring him up.

"My name is Shadow." The man said. "You have done well to have slain so many of my men."

"They are not men! They are demons!" Elric replied angrily.

"But they are mine nonetheless." Shadow said calmly. "Just like you will be."

"I will never!" Elric said with defiance.

"My friend, you will join me or die, but either way your soul will be mine." Shadow said in his calm voice.

"Never!" Elric yelled vehemently. He thrust his sword at Shadow, but the blade however never touched Him, he dodged to the side and laughed.

"You cannot defeat me. Do you actually think you can?" Shadow said with a chuckle.

Elric yelled and let loose an impressive array of moves. He lunged, thrust, and twirled the blade around in the air. Shadow, unable to dodge all the slashes, had to pull out his own blade to deflect Elric's blows. Elric locked swords with Shadow and caught a glimpse of Shadow's blade.

The blade looked evil. Its handle was made of the blackest steel, and at its end was a silver ball, for balance. The hilt of the blade was shaped in the image of the skull of a horned demon, its horns acting as the swords backup hand guard. In the demon hilt's eyes were black obelisk jewels. The sword's true hand guard began at the end of the horned demon's face, it was long and steel hard, with a skull at each end. The blade of the sword had a strange architecture. The blade was spiked, for a small part at the base of the blade, which smoothed out and became a beautiful gleaming silver blade. Written along the breadth of the blade were ancient runes.

Elric gasped as he saw the blade. Being a blacksmith, he had heard of many legendary blades. The blade held by Shadow was the legendary sword Vereor, also known as "Doomfear". The blade held in Shadow's hand was supposed to have been used by Aginorin, the Dark Lord of Acheron, in his invasion of Weyard during the Sol Wars. The blade was rumored to have the power to steal one's soul.

Elric felt a fear settle in his stomach, as Shadow and himself dueled, their blades sending sparks in the night. Elric and Shadow lunged and thrust at each other, neither able to break through the other's defense. Shadow suddenly feinted to his right, spun to his left, and elbowed Elric in the face. Elric was knocked backwards and Shadow plunged Vereor into Elric's chest cutting through armor, skin, and bone.

Elric stood there shocked for a moment; the pain had left his body. He stared at Shadow, and saw the wicked smile on his face as he looked at him. Elric fell to his knees. The demon eyes of the blade suddenly burned brightly. A blue aura began to surround the blade.

Elric felt an excruciating pain. His soul was being torn from his body. He tried to fight the demonic powers of the blade, but it was too strong. Elric's last though was of Cecil, before his spirit left him.

Shadow stood there for a few moments staring at the now lifeless body of Elric. The demon eyes on the hilt faded away as did the blue aura surrounding the blade. Shadow pulled the sword from Elric's chest, the blood dripped from the blade. Elric's body sat on its knees a few moments before falling over. Shadow stared at Elric and let out a long, deep laugh. He wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it. He then spun on his heel and began walking off, his band of demons following behind him.

x

Cecil sat staring through the woods watching his father and a man with long white hair locked in combat. He watched them fighting, seeing only a blur of their swords and the sparks that erupted from them when they made contact with each other. The fight seemed to last for hours, and Cecil found himself amazed by his father's sword fighting. He never knew his father could wield a sword like that.

He saw the man with the long hair suddenly fall to his right; the man however spun to his left and hit his father in his face. Elric fell backwards and the man plunged his sword into Elric's chest.

Cecil tried to cry out but his throat constricted. He saw his father fall to his knees. The man smiled evilly at Elric. The tears began to fill Cecil's eyes as he watched. A blue aura appeared around the blade and ripples of energy seemed to surge into his father's body. Elric's body went into convulsions and then seemed to go limp. The blue aura surrounding the blade faded away.

The man pulled the sword from Elric's body and let out a long deep laugh. Cecil felt a great hatred settle in his heart, and tried to stand up to attack the man, but he was rooted to the spot. The man finished his laugh and cleaned his blade and sheathed it. He then spun on his heel and began walking away, the bandits following closely behind him.

Cecil buried his face in his hands and wept with much sorrow. Sobs racked Cecil's body and he cried for many hours. He cried until no more tears came. His body was so fatigued and he was so wearisome, that he fell into a troubled sleep.

**A/N (CL): Well that concludes the prologue to the novel Shadow Wars. I hoped that you enjoyed it. I know that the first chapter was pretty gruesome, but it will get better. Stay tuned, and of course, please Read and Review!**

**A/N: (MoR): Hope you liked it! I can't say anything really that Cyan Light didn't already mention. So R&R!**


	2. Mark of a Hero

**EDIT: Well, this chapter isn't any different to the first time, just a few less typos (I hope). Well, I'll do the new review replies!**

**Theodorel: Thank you! Yeah, they never mention much about the history, so I thought I'd give it a bit. Hope ya like this one!**

**Corycian Muse: Cool, glad you like 'em all. Yeah, I'd hate it if they did come out like that, but I'm pleased with the result. I'll try and continue it as long as I can. Yes, we must revolutionize the GS fandom, and we shall be at the forefront! Yes, I noticed you added me, we simply must try and chat some time! The Count of Monte Christo, eh? Anubis is better! HAIL ANUBIS! Heh, um… yeah!**

**Unicornmaddy: Thank you! I shall!**

**SpasticDjinn: Heh, I know you like things to be long when their well written. Glad you like the OC's, always a risk writing them, I guess, you have no idea if people will like 'em. Yes, cya later!**

**Author's Note: (Cyan Light)**Well I have got to say that this was kind of a filler chapter. I mean it is a very important piece of the story, there just is not very much action. I do have to say though, that this was very enjoyable to write, it just seemed to flow while writing it. But I wanted to give a big thanks to all the readers who reviewed, your reviews inspired me to write a little faster and update it soon for you.

**A/N (MoR): **Hey all! Okay, this chapter is sorta filler, but it's all just building up to the main story. After this, there will be another chapter setting up the scene before war breaks out and the story really gets going. So read and enjoy.

Oh yeah, when you read the description of Aginorin here, that was inspired by a cross of Anubis from SG1, and the Witch King from the movie "Return of the King". I guess if you think of that, you'll have a rough idea of what we're talking about.

Also, read my one-shot "Battle of Mount Aleph" (on this account) for a good description of the battle of Mount Aleph that's talked about in here.

**You'll also notice a definite Tolkien inspiration here, with the sword thing, but mayhap you'll like it. Or not. We'll see. I think I forgot to mention that last time. Oh well. Silly me.**

**Chapter One**

"**The Mark of a Hero"**

_The legendary sword known as Vereor, which was used by the Dark Lord, Aginorin, is an ancient powerful sword of an unknown origin. Many rumors have spread about this sword's creation, but most scholars only believe one theory to be possible._

_Vereor was created many millennia's ago, in the Dark Void. The Dark Lord Aginorin, commander of the Legions of Darkness, was preparing for his invasion of Weyard. He needed a weapon that would give him an unimaginable power. He therefore forged the mighty sword Vereor. Aginorin placed within this powerful sword a piece of his soul, which almost insured his immortality. As long as either the sword or the Dark Lord lived, he would never be truly defeated. Should the Dark Lord ever fall, but the sword survived; he would return stronger than ever._

_The sword was created with the blackest of dark arts and was said to have the ability to steal its victim's soul. It was said that Aginorin saved this terror only for the greatest of his adversaries. When he had administered the killing blow, the sword would steal the victim's soul and deliver it to Aginorin. The pain of having one's soul torn from them must be excruciating. The worst feature of this demonic sword was that after the soul was captured it would be under Aginorin's command. He could use the owner's powers and skills as his own and could even take that person's image as his own. This is the reason that the sword was given the name "Doomfear" during the Sol Wars._

_The fear of this sword however has passed throughout the Golden Age. It has not been seen since that mighty battle at the base of Mount Aleph, the place where the final battle of the Sol Wars took place. It was also where the Asha'man Lucid descended from Aetherius and defeated Aginorin with a holy sword. Vereor is believed to have been destroyed, just like the Dark Lord..._

Passage obtained from a manuscript about the Ancient Blades of Weyard

-Temple of Sol, Archives-

_The man who called himself Shadow moved through the ancient ruins cautiously. He felt led here, knew that he should be here, yet he couldn't help but feel afraid. He pushed his fear deep down inside himself and continued onward._

_The ruins were very old. The pale moonlight illuminated the small cobblestone path that led through the remnants of it. The path led to the only structure that was not crumbling. It was the place that Shadow had been tasked to find. It was the Temple of Acheron. Many years ago, when Aginorin was defeated at the base of Mount Aleph, the most inconspicuous of his followers, the Darkfiends, gathered the master's remains from the field of battle and took it to a safe location. That location was the Temple of Acheron._

_Shadow walked down the cobblestone street and up the large marble stairs. He stopped at the Temple's large aged stone doors and peered up at them. The doors were very large and made of solid stone. The massive doors were sealed shut by some powerful force. A large circular inscription was carved into the door. The circle was symmetrical on both sides of the door. An evil looking sword was carved in the center of the circle. It was a representation of Vereor. Also written within the circle were ancient runes that Shadow translated easily._

_A warning to those who seek to find_

_the remains of our master, long denied_

_For deep within these halls_

_and far beyond these walls_

_Rests the objects the Dark Lord most prized._

_But only the blood of the chosen shall pass this gate_

_For inside they shall receive their fate_

_It will be the time the Darkfiends long for_

_The time of the Dark Lords return_

_The time when the Alshman Lucid will be no more_

_Shadow stood pondering the words on the large stone doors, as if deciding something. As he reached a conclusion he removed a knife from a small sheath at his side. He pulled the blade across the palm of his right hand and the blood flowed freely. Shadow then placed his hand within the circle on the door. The blood flowing from the slash across his hand was absorbed into the wall. The sword on the wall started to glow bright red. The large stone doors let out a loud groan and slowly creaked open._

_The mustiness of time assaulted Shadow's nostrils as he was the first to have entered the temple in a thousand years. Shadow looked beyond the temple doors but saw nothing but a cloak of darkness within it. Suddenly candles burst into flame just beyond the temple doors and slowly other candles ignited and created a lighted path down a long hallway._

_Shadow took a deep breath and entered the temple. He followed the lighted path down the hallway to another set of stone doors. As he reached the doors they slowly moaned open. The room beyond the doors was well illuminated._

_The room was very large and open. In its center stood a large platform with stairs leading to it. Resting upon the platform was a massive stone sarcophagus. Shadow slowly walked towards the platform and up the stairs to stand before the ancient coffin. Etched into its surface was a picture of a battle long ago. A large black figure was holding a sword and all around him demons were fighting robed warriors. The mighty Golden Sun laid suspended high above the field of battle casting an eerie light over the combat. _

_Shadow looked intently at the black figure in the picture. It was supposed to be a portrayal of the Dark Lord Aginorin. A black cloak covered his body and black armor showed where the cloak allowed. Beneath the helm, no face could be seen, only a coalescence of dark energy. This was the one Shadow had been serving for all his years, this was his true master._

_Shadow grasped the lid of the sarcophagus and slowly began to push against it. The lid slowly gave way as he forced it open. The lid fell from the coffin and hit the ground sending a loud ringing sound around the room. Shadow stared into the coffin where his destiny lay. _

_In the coffin lay what remained of Aginorin. Large, heavy pieces of armor lay within. They looked viscous. Large spikes protruded from them. The steel that they had been created with had been tainted black by an ancient evil power. An evil looking sword lay across the armor, the demon eyes on the hilt seeming to stare up at him._

_Shadow had seen this before in his dreams, or rather his nightmares. This is the task he had been appointed. It was time for Aginorin to return to the world of Weyard. And then, he would seize the power of the Golden Sun._

_Shadow reached out and grasped the handle of the sword. He lifted it from the sarcophagus and looked at it. Suddenly the sword burned brightly and dark energy began to course through it and into Shadow's body. The pain was incredible! Shadow fell to his knees as the energy pulsed through his body. He tried to release the sword but it was held in his hand by an evil force. _

_The pain slowly subsided and when it had Shadow heard a voice from deep within his mind speaking to him. **You have served me well Shadow**. Shadow did not need to ask who the voice belonged to, he knew for he had heard it in his nightmares, calling out to him. **But I now require a suitable host in which I can reside until I am strong enough to walk this world again.** The voice continued. Aginorin, for that was who it was, did not ask permission, he did not need to. He had chosen Shadow for this purpose long ago. Shadow was merely the commander of the Darkfiends, he could not defy his master._

_A dark, black energy that was Aginorin's spirit flowed through the sword and into Shadow's body. Aginorin's spirit covered Shadow's mind like a coating of oil on a vessel. **You will be my body until the time is right when I will once again walk this world without the need of your pathetic, fragile flesh.** Shadow felt the Dark Lord within his mind. He was possessed now, or at least partially possessed. Aginorin still needed time to grow and extend his control._

_Shadow placed the dark sword that still rested in his hand in a sheath on his side that he had been commanded to bring. He looked within the coffin at the cursed armor of his master and noticed a black cloak, that seemed to absorb all light around it. He suddenly heard the voice once again in his mind. **Do not wear these! The time has not yet come and you are not worthy. Take them with you and keep them safe in my name. They must await my return. Do not fail me.**_

_Shadow didn't even contemplate the possibility of failure. For years, the Darkfiends had successfully remained hidden, growing in power. He would see to it that they would protect these items with their lives. Shadow placed the cloak and heavy armor in a large leather bag he brought with him. He slung it over his shoulder with a groan, and then turned to leave. His work there was done, and his master would not appreciate time wasted. And so it had begun..._

_x_

Shadow opened his eyes after reliving what had happened several years before. Since then he had slowly gained power and the Darkfiends had begun to make systematic attacks on small villages in search of the warrior chosen by Sol.

Shadow was kneeling before a small altar in the center of his tent. Resting upon the altar was the remnants of Aginorin's armor. Vereor was laid against it, the demon hilts eyes, staring at Shadow. The eyes from the demon hilt suddenly burned brightly. Large ripples of dark energy flowed down the blade of the sword. A beam of red light burst from the demon hilts eyes and converged before Shadow and began to take shape. Slowly the energy took a form resembling a human. When the energy finished taking shape Aginorin's spirit stood before Shadow.

"My master," Shadow said before bowing before the Dark Lord. Aginorin's spirit did not have any physical form, it was simply a form of dark energy. Power emanated from the Dark Lord and Shadow was amazed by it. _I can only imagine how much power he will wield when he walks this world again,_ Shadow thought to himself.

_"My minion, we have now destroyed the village of Valeus, which was where the prophesied chosen one would be born. No being can stop my resurrection now! Yet, why is it that I can still feel a great power from the ruins of that village, Shadow?"_ Aginorin's strong powerful voice asked.

"I do not know my master; we killed all that lived in that village. The greatest warrior from the village, died by my hand and his soul was given to you my Lord." Shadow replied.

_"Yes, he was very powerful; he could have been the chosen one. Yet, this feeling cannot be ignored. Shadow, send two Deathhunters to intercept this power. Tell them to leave no stone unturned, and kill any that they come across. Do you understand Shadow?"_ Aginorin's voice rumbled.

"Yes, my master. It will be done." Shadow replied.

_"I do not accept failure Shadow, remember that."_ Aginorin said before his spirit returned to the sword. Shadow rose from his kneeling position on the floor and walked towards his tent flap. Yes, he knew Aginorin would not accept failure; he would find this source of power and end it.

x

_Cecil found himself standing at the beginning of a large golden hallway. The large hall was brightly lit by glowing torches that lined the walls, leading towards a large door at the hallway's end. Cecil turned around and examined what lay behind him. A large wooden door with a large golden handle stood there. Cecil reached out to open the doors but found them locked. He turned around again and began walking towards the large stone doors at the hallways end, examining the walls as he did so._

_Large pictures lined the walls on the hallway. Each of the pictures portrayed a person's life. The pictures began with the person's birth and continued on through the rest of their life. As he walked down the hallway examining the pictures on the wall he felt a strange feeling of deja vu. About a quarter of the way down the hallway, the pictures stopped. The last picture on the wall showed a man with long white hair locked in combat with a man in golden armor. Surrounding the battling warriors were cottages burning brightly. In the trees beyond them he saw a boy staring at the battle._

_Cecil suddenly had trouble breathing. The pictures lining the hallway were from his life! Cecil stared at the picture on the wall in shock. His breathe began to slowly return to him after a few moments and he recovered from his shock. He took one last glance at the picture on the wall and continued his journey down the hallway, towards the large stone doors._

_It seemed that the closer Cecil got to the stone doors, the larger they became. With every step he took towards the doors they seemed to grow larger and larger. By the time he reached the stone doors they had become massive and towered looming over Cecil. Etched in the surface of the large doors were ancient runes. The characters that were written on the door were very large and stretched across the breadth of them. Cecil stared up at the characters on the door, but he was not schooled in the ancient languages and was unable to decipher them._

_Cecil stared intently at the runes on the door hoping that he would be able to understand them. As he stared at them they suddenly burned brightly, casting a bright light around the entire hallway filling it completely. Golden Light erupted from the characters on the wall and Cecil had to close his eyes from the brilliance of it. From beneath his eyelids, Cecil felt the lustrous light fade away. Cecil cautiously opened his eyes to examine the door. Where the ancient language on the door had been written it now was carved in his on tongue! He could now understand what was written!_

_Cecil was amazed by this occurrence. It was almost too much to believe. Cecil stared up at the inscription on the door and slowly read it._

_Only the one chosen by Sol_

_to save the world from destruction_

_may pass beyond these doors _

_For that which resides beyond them_

_is that which only he can bear_

_that will mark him as the chosen_

_With this mark that he receives_

_he will be sworn to combat evil_

_and stop the dreadful return of Aginorin_

_The chosen will pass these doors thrice times_

_each one more important than before_

_until the time he leaves this world_

_Cecil read the last line of the inscription and pondered what the inscription meant. As he did this another line of inscription slowly began to etch itself into the wall. Cecil watched this slowly and as the last line of inscription appeared it flashed once with a golden light. Cecil slowly read what had just been written._

_So pass beyond these doors chosen one_

_and inside it will be bestowed upon you_

_the Mark of a Hero_

_As he finished reading the inscription, the large doors slowly opened. The room beyond the doors looked incredible. Just beyond the door stood two statues of mighty warriors. In each of their hands they held a large glowing globe of light. The light from these globes lighted a path from the door to a large stone picture in the rooms center. Cecil slowly walked past the mighty guardians and up to the large picture where he stopped._

_The picture was a depiction of the final battle of the Sol Wars. As he stared at the picture it seemed to come to life before him. White, robed warriors were locked in combat with some of the evilest creatures Cecil had ever seen. They used mighty powers against them; he saw plumes of fire, ice, and rain falling from the sky. Mighty tempests tore through the ranks of evil demons and the earth seemed to open up and swallow entire legions whole._

_A large mountain loomed in the distance and he saw many men, women, and children casting prayers up into the heavens. Cecil then heard a large roar and looked at the picture to see where it came from. A large evil looking being stood just behind the legions of demons, Cecil felt a great fear in his chest as he looked at him. The demon wore spiked armor that almost completely covered his body. Draped across his body was a black cape that absorbed all the light about him. In his hand was an evil looking sword. _

'_I have seen that sword before!' Cecil though to himself. 'The man who killed my father held it.' The thought of his father brought tears to his eyes, but he blinked them away quickly._

_The demon was reaching for something in the sky. Cecil followed his gaze and saw a Golden Sun suspended above the field of battle. Suddenly a glowing sword of light descended from the heavens and fell with blinding speed towards the demon. The demon made one last desperate attempt to grab the Golden Sun, but the sword crashed into him. The demon let out a roar of agony and was covered by the golden light. A concussive wave of dark energy tore across the land as the light faded and where the demon had stood there was nothing._

_The picture returned to stillness, but Cecil saw that the Golden Sun still cast rays of light about the rooms. Cecil was captivated by the glowing Golden Sun in the carved picture. He felt himself reaching his hand to touch it, but he could not control his actions. Cecil placed his right hand against the Golden Sun. He felt a great warmth flood through his hand and into his body. A great joy filled his being. All his troubles left him as he touched the Golden Sun and all he could feel was a great love._

_The light from the Golden Sun slowly began to fade away and as it did so did the incredible joy that he felt. Cecil pulled his hand slowly away from the picture and examined it. He saw within his hand a swirling mist of golden light. He stared at it, amazed. As he looked at it, the light slowly began to take shape. When it finished, the image of the Golden Sun appeared within his hand._

_Cecil looked at the Golden Sun in the picture with amazement. He looked back at his hand again and saw the swirling light had returned. 'Wow!' He thought to himself. Suddenly large hands grabbed his arms and threw him backward. Cecil flew through the air and slammed into the wall sending him into darkness._

_x_

Cecil's eyes flashed open. The afternoon sun was shining brightly the sky, but it was suddenly blocked out by a large shadow. Strong hands grasped his arms again and threw him backwards. Cecil slammed into a large tree with a tremendous force. Cecil almost crumpled to the ground but he reached out and steadied himself against a branch. He felt dizzy and his vision was blurred. Cecil turned to face his assailant.

Standing before Cecil were two large demonic creatures. They wore light armor and a large sword hung at their sides. They had long pointed ears and long black hair that hung well past their shoulders. Draped across them was a long black cloak. The most mystifying feature they had was their eyes. They did not have any! Where their eyes should have been there was nothing but empty sockets.

The Deathhunters, for they were the ones Shadow had sent to find the source of power, grinned wickedly at their prey and began walking towards him. Cecil however wasn't going to wait for them. He spun around and began running through the trees and into the smoldering ruins of his village. The Deathhunters took off after him in close pursuit. Cecil ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but the demons still gained distance.

Suddenly one of the Deathhunters appeared before Cecil causing him to skid to a stop. Cecil spun from the demon to try and run back the way he had come but the other demon blocked his path. Cecil saw laying at his feet a small sword that had been used by one of the villagers during the attack. He lunged at the sword and grasped it by the hilt swinging it at the nearest Deathhunter. The demon however leaped backwards to evade the blow.

The demon stared at Cecil with his eyeless sockets, a look of contempt upon his face. He grasped the hilt of the sword at his side, and pulled the blade free. The demon let out a long evil laugh and began walking towards Cecil. Cecil stood his ground holding the small sword in his hand at the ready. He stood there facing almost sure death just as his father would have.

The demon reached Cecil and swung the blade in an arc. Cecil tried to deflect the blade with his own small sword but the demon was too strong. As their blades connected Cecil's small sword was knocked from his grasp and went soaring through the air. The demon then swung again at Cecil, who was now weapon less. Cecil tried to dodge out of the way but he could not fully evade the blow. The blade slashed across his arm sending a searing pain up it.

Cecil sat on his knees grasping the wound on his arm, as the demon stood over him raising the sword for a final blow. He felt a tremendous amount of power building within him. All the pain he felt within him for the destruction of his village and the loss of his father he channeled. The power seemed to build in his hand crying for release.

Cecil's hand flashed up at the demon and a large beam of light hit the demon in the chest and sent him flying through the air. The demon slammed into the ground sending up a cloud of dust as he did so. It looked dazed for a moment but slowly began to pull itself up from the ground. Cecil however wasn't finished with him.

He stared at the ground beneath the demon willing it to swallow the demon. Once again he felt power building within him as he focused on the earth, willing it to open wide. He raised his hand again and the ground began to quake. The demon looked around with its eyeless sockets, a look of fear on its face, when the ground opened wide. A huge chasm appeared underneath the demon and it fell into the awaiting darkness. The chasm then slammed together again, becoming whole once more.

Cecil suddenly felt extremely weak and fell to his knees. He stared at his hand and saw the golden sun burning brightly within it. The demon stared at Cecil with a shocked look on his face. Afraid that he would meet the same fate as his friend, the Deathhunter pulled his sword from his sheath and lunged at Cecil, to finish him off. Cecil tried to move but was too weak. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the demon lunged at him. Just before the blade struck he closed his eyes. The blow, however, never came.

A tall man plowed into the demon from the side and sent him careening to the ground. The demon looked up at the man and a growl rumbled from him. The man's features were hidden by a large cloak that covered his body. The only thing visible was his face which looked wizened with small wrinkles beginning to form around his eyes. The man's eyes were the deepest blue and seemed to hold much joy deep within them. The eyes now, however, held a look of barely contained fury.

The demon lunged at the man, who easily dodged the blow. Angered by this the demon tried again only to miss him as the man dodged just as easily. The demon let his anger show by letting out a loud roar at the man. It then took a deep breath and opened its mouth; a large plume of flame erupted from it and headed straight towards the man. The man didn't even flinch.

His hand shot out from beneath his cloak and a large stone spire tore itself from the ground in front of him blocking him from the fire. The plume of fire hit the spire shattering it and sending pieces flying everywhere. The man however stood there unscathed.

The demon stood there shocked by this, but not as shocked as when a large beautiful blade seemed to leap into the man's hands from beneath his cloak. The demon however did not let this slow him for long. The Deathhunter leaped at the man swinging his sword wildly. The man however dodged and deflected the blows with ease. Then the man finally pressed the attack. He swung his blade with a trained hand. His blade was a blur as it struck the demon time and time again. Finally the battle was over. The man leaped away from the demon and sheathed his sword as he did so.

The demon stood there open mouthed before its head fell from its shoulders. The body then burst into flames casting ashes into the breeze.

Cecil stared up at the man who had defeated the demon with such ease. The man let out a long sigh and pulled the hood of his cloak from his head and turned to face Cecil. He had gray hair that hung down to his neck. He walked over to Cecil and reached down to help him to his feet. Cecil grasped the man's hand and pulled himself to his feet. The man saw the slash on Cecil's arm.

"Let me help you with that cut," the man said kneeling down and placing his hand on the cut. The cut was very deep and blood flowed freely from it. The man closed his eyes. Cecil felt great warmth in his arm and he saw a blue aura appear around the man as he healed it. When the cut was completely healed the man removed his hand and rose to his feet.

"I am sorry that I did not arrive sooner, my boy. I saw the fire from my cottage in the Angaran Mountains, close to here. I traveled through the night in order to reach this place. I am glad that I was able to at least save one survivor. But please tell me the story of how your village was attacked." The main said to Cecil.

Cecil felt that he could trust this man who came to his aid and began telling him the story about the bandit attack on his village. He also told him about the battle between his father and the man with long white hair. He then told him the strange occurrence that happened with the sword he wielded. The man seemed very interested in the sword and asked Cecil to describe it, which he did. When Cecil finished telling him the story, the man had a look of fear in his eyes.

"I am sorry to hear about your father my boy, he died a very horrible death. The sword you saw was Vereor, the sword used by the Dark Lord Aginorin. If what you say happened, then your father's soul was taken from him. I am sorry. I can't believe that the sword has been rediscovered." The man said closing his eyes and bowing his head. "I have felt the evil, reentering the land for years now, but I never dreamed that Aginorin would return during my time. The world of Weyard will soon face times of great trial and tribulation, if only the Order would believe me." The man said lost in thought.

"The Order?" Cecil asked questioningly.

"Wha-What, oh the Order, the Order of Sol, my boy. Have you never heard of them? I was once a Sol Knight, many years ago." The man replied.

"Oh, I have heard of the Order of Sol, Haran told me about them." Cecil said without thinking. "Haran?" The man asked.

Cecil felt very stupid, saying that he was a man from his dream, but he did not want to lie so he told him. Instead of laughing the man looked at Cecil intently.

"What else happened in your dream?" The man asked Cecil. Cecil then told him his dream excluding the prophecy and the Hero of Ages. The man sat there lost in thought pondering what had been told to him. Something suddenly occurred to him.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sabin Bakura." The man said offering his hand to Cecil. "I'm Cecil," replied Cecil grasping the man's hand. "Just Cecil," the man asked with a laugh. Cecil cracked a smile. "No, my name is Cecil Constantine."

The released each other's hands and let them fall to their sides. As Cecil's arm fell towards his side, Sabin's arm shot out with blinding speed and grasped his arm. He flipped Cecil's hand palm upward and stared at the glowing light swirling in his hand.

"Whe-Where did you get this?" The man asked with barely contained excitement. Cecil explained to Sabin the dream where he received the mark. Sabin looked at Cecil, with renewed respect after the story. "If what you say is true, then the world will face great peril even sooner than I thought." Sabin said to Cecil a look of thought on his face. After a few moments Sabin came to a conclusion and began speaking again. "I was told once long ago that my apprentice would change the course of history. I have watched the years of my life slowly pass by while waiting for this warrior. Throughout my lifetime, I have seen some of the greatest warriors of the age. I even trained a few myself. But I never found the one that I felt drawn to take on as my pupil, my apprentice. I feel that fate has drawn us together Cecil, and that you are the one that I have sought throughout all my long years. I ask you Cecil, if you would allow me the honor to train you as my apprentice."

Cecil looked at the man, remembering what Haran had said about a teacher that would come to him. He looked around at the smoldering ruins of his village, thinking of lost friends, and lost families. He had the choice now, to help make the world a better place. It was the task he had been chosen for. It was his destiny. He looked at Sabin, who was looking at him expectantly awaiting his decision.

"Yes, I would be honored, Master Sabin." Cecil replied, as he made a solemn vow to himself. _I promise that I will become the Hero I was destined to be. I will protect all who need it. I will defend the land and safeguard the people to the utmost of my abilities, even if it means sacrificing myself so that they can live. This I promise on the memory of my father._

The sun in the sky began to set. Orange and purple colors merged together in a beautiful unity. Cecil stared at the setting sunset, burning it into his memory.

"I promise, father," Cecil whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek.

**A/N (Cyan Light):** Well that concludes the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will begin ten years later. Cecil has trained throughout those ten years and has become a great warrior. I did not want to bore you the readers with several chapters of his training. You will hear some of the training however throughout the rest of the story. Well I believe that is everything. Please Read and Review! Also tell us any improvements you think we should make!

**A/N (MoR): **Okay, hope you liked it! The next chapter will set up the scene for the rest of the story, and then things can really start rolling. Until then, R&R!

**EDIT: Okay, that's where we updated to last time. Now, the next chapter was never actually finished, but if people want, I'll see if I can't do some editing, and polish up what was written, for your reading enjoyment. After that… we'll see. R&R!**


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